Sherlock Holmes at Hogwarts.

Chapter 373 Dawn Quietly Slips Across the Horizon
"The Ministry of Magic informed us that they intend to hold a public trial for that guy."

Upon hearing Sherlock's words, Sirius's previous polite smile vanished.

Instead, there was a sense of tension that suppressed immense emotions.

"I don't know."

Sirius's once tormented gray eyes had become sharp as an eagle's, staring intently at Sherlock and Mycroft:

"The evidence is conclusive, the investigation report has been released, and Fudge already made a promise in the principal's office last time..."

If that's the case, what's the point of interrogation?
"Shouldn't we just let the Dementors take care of him?"

When they first received the news, Sirius and Harry both felt something was off, and then they became nervous and worried.

After all, Fudge's attitude in the headmaster's office last time was ambiguous, and he even pointed out that some people within the Ministry of Magic wanted to cancel the Dementor Kiss on Peter and instead put him in permanent imprisonment.

Although he seemed to give in under the combined pressure from Sirius and Snape.

But now that the already decided punishment has turned into an interrogation, it's no wonder they feel uneasy.

I have a feeling that something might have gone wrong.

So as soon as they received the news, the two of them came here to discuss countermeasures with Sherlock.

"You two don't need to worry, it's just a formality."

"what?"

Sirius looked at Mycroft with surprise.

He never expected that the person who gave him the answer would be Mycroft, not Sherlock.

Mycroft nodded slightly, calmly holding his teacup, as if merely confirming a fait accompli:
"The trial has been arranged, and Wissengamo will deliver the verdict it deserves."

"Hmph, a deserved verdict?"

Sherlock sat back on the sofa, clasped his hands together to support his chin, and leaned back slightly.

His grey eyes looked at Mycroft, with a hint of scrutiny that was barely perceptible:

"I noticed you used 'will' instead of 'should,' so it seems you consider the verdict to be a foregone conclusion?"

"Obviously, it's my brother."

"So what should be done, procedural justice or substantive justice?"
The dock was filled with incompetent and worthless individuals who were better at oscillating between whitewashing and shirking responsibility.

This trial itself is more like a performance by the Ministry of Magic to salvage its meager credibility.

Mycroft's hand, holding the teacup, didn't pause for a moment, and his expression remained unchanged.
"My dear brother, the correctness of a conclusion is not diminished by the imperfections in its derivation process."

Everything has two sides; don't easily separate them. The form of a procedure can sometimes hinder the result, but sometimes it is precisely the real guarantee.

Or, at this point, would you rather let the mouse escape?

"At times like these, it's best not to resort to your bureaucratic jargon."

"No, no, no, this is originally dialectical philosophy."

Even a necessary performance can sometimes be an effective way to achieve a goal.

"You see, as long as this trial results in Peter Pettigrew being punished in front of everyone, that's enough."

After saying that, his gaze fell on Sirius and Harry, "especially for those who have been exonerated and those who have witnessed it."

"enough?"

Sherlock had just sat down when Sirius stood up.

The warm atmosphere in the living room was instantly shattered, and the lingering aroma of tea and snacks blended into an invisible tension.

Sirius, now a guest, could no longer maintain his calm facade.

More than a decade of wrongful imprisonment, the tragic death of a close friend, and his own experience of being a fugitive...

The root of it all lies in that short figure who is about to be judged.

The more plain and precise Mycroft's words were, the more he felt an indescribable sense of suffocation.

"Is it just to make him go through the motions on the trial bench? If that's the case, why add this formality in the first place?"

Sirius's chest heaved slightly with emotion, his voice choked with suppressed anger and pain as he looked at Mycroft, his eyes burning with intensity.
"Wouldn't it be better for a traitor who betrayed his friends and caused the deaths of two innocent people to simply die?"

The last few words were practically squeezed out through clenched teeth.

"Sirius..."

Harry looked at his godfather with some concern.

He understood Sirius's pain, but the way Sirius looked at this moment made Harry feel uneasy.

"Mr. Sirius."

Mycroft's voice remained calm as he finally put down his teacup.

“I understand your anger, the deep-seated anger.”

I must remind you that, in addition to betraying his friends and causing the deaths of two innocent lives, he also caused more than a dozen innocent Muggles to perish in order to cover up his mistakes.

A Muggle's life is also a life.

The loss of every life represents the disintegration of a family.

For this reason alone, Peter's death was not a loss.

Mycroft met Sirius's burning eyes with calm gaze, not avoiding the pain that was almost tangible.

"For Peter, the Dementor's kiss was an end, a complete end."

It will strip the criminal of his consciousness, memory, and soul, turning him into an empty shell that is more pathetic than death.

In the magical world's judgment, this is the most thorough punishment.

But most importantly—

His gaze shifted slightly, seemingly looking into the distance, his tone tinged with coldness:
"The complete demise of a traitor is merely a cornerstone for healing past wounds."

However, this trial is a reckoning with the past and an explanation to the public.

It needs to be seen and recorded.

It needs to become an indelible page in the case file.

His gaze returned to Sirius's face. "Perhaps to you this is just a formality, but it's a declaration to everyone:"

The sacrifices of the innocent and your injustice have ultimately led to the perpetrators bearing the consequences.

The name Peter Pettigrew will be forever etched in the annals of magical history as a stain, unlike the burden you've carried for the past decade or so.

Mycroft's words did not attempt to quell Sirius's anger; instead, they pointed out the deeper social significance of this public trial.

It is not merely a personal act of revenge, but a definitive conclusion of history.

It connects Sirius's personal suffering with the entire magical community's renewed understanding of this momentous historical event.

There was a brief silence in the living room.

Sirius sat down again, seemingly trying to process Mycroft's words.

The deep-seated hatred gradually subsided under the influence of these words.

Harry's gaze darted between Sirius and Mycroft, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

Before arriving here, he was more worried about what unexpected changes might occur in the outcome.

Now that we know the outcome will be the same, it doesn't matter anymore.

Especially for Harry, as long as Peter gets the punishment he deserves in the end, then having an extra trial before that isn't a big problem.

Mycroft's explanation made it even more perfect.

Sherlock looked at his brother thoughtfully.

His thoughts were naturally deeper and farther-reaching than Harry's.

Although he scoffed at the inefficiency of the Ministry of Magic's bureaucracy, Mycroft's emphasis on the openness and record-keeping value of the trial did indeed hit the nail on the head.

It's not just about punishing Peter; it's about completely overturning the official narrative of the Black traitor case. The previous investigation announcements alone are not enough.

how to say?

The Ministry of Magic's original intention was simply to demonstrate their capabilities, but in practice it did have a positive effect.

"We will be notified the day after tomorrow."

Sirius Black said in a hoarse voice, “I will be present as a witness. Sherlock, you and Harry are vouched for by Dumbledore and may attend as observers.”

"A grand show of formalities, but just going through the motions? That's quite interesting..."

Sherlock then turned to Mycroft, "So, you'll be there that day too?"

"Me? How could that be?"

Mycroft picked up his teacup again. “My dear brother, I’m just a government employee who has only recently started working here.”

Besides, I'm just a Muggle, how could I possibly participate in the trials of the magical world?

"Your pretentious manner is disgusting, Mycroft."

"Thank you for your compliment, my dear brother." "..."

Sirius and Harry left after lunch.

With this incident, the subsequent gatherings naturally could not take place.

As Mycroft said, the public trial quickly caused a stir throughout the wizarding world.

Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew, criminal and victim, best friend and traitor, hero and clown, the truth buried for twelve years...

The Ministry of Magic's deliberate encouragement further amplified the situation, drawing significant attention to the matter.

It's no exaggeration to say that almost every family in the magical world has been discussing this matter during this period.

This is especially true for the individuals involved.

However, only Sherlock and Harry were allowed to attend the meeting as observers, which made the other young wizards somewhat dissatisfied.

Hermione even called Sherlock to complain for a long time:

"This case is definitely the most outstanding one you've ever handled!"
They uncovered the truth that had been buried for twelve years, completely cleared Sirius's name, and changed the entire wizarding world's understanding of the murder of Harry's parents!
The whole process was absolutely amazing—but we can only learn about it from the newspapers and can't witness it in person?
This is so unfair! Sherlock, this is a historic moment!

Hermione's voice came through the microphone clearly, her tone urgent and filled with intense resentment and frustration.

Sherlock held the microphone a little further away from his ear.

He could picture Hermione pacing excitedly on the other end of the phone, the pages of a book rustling beside her.

"If it's for your own creative work, I'll tell you the details when I get back."

Hermione was finally relieved to hear Sherlock's promise.

She complained a few more times and repeatedly told Sherlock to make sure he remembered every detail of the trial before hanging up the phone.

Sherlock put down the receiver, and the living room returned to silence.

However, Sherlock knew that Hermione would definitely call Harry again.

On the night before the trial, during dinner, Mrs. Holmes said to Sherlock:

"I've ironed your clothes, and they're hanging in your closet now."

Change into it after breakfast tomorrow; I've taken your coat down for you.

I've checked the shirt; the collar and cuffs are perfect.

"Okay, mother."

Sherlock's tone was indifferent; he himself didn't really care whether he had to dress so formally for a trial he considered more of a formality than a substance.

As long as it conforms to basic etiquette, he doesn't mind wearing his usual clothes.

Seeing Mrs. Holmes's serious expression, Mycroft interjected in a relaxed tone:

"Mom, why go to so much trouble?"

Sherlock was merely an observer, sitting quietly in the audience.

"Why isn't it necessary?"

Mrs. Holmes immediately turned her head, glared at Mycroft with displeasure, and raised her voice, carrying the stubbornness characteristic of a mother:
"So what if I attend as an observer?"
That was a historic trial!

This is the crucial moment to clear Harry's godfather's name!
Although no one else knew, it was Sherlock who revealed the truth.

When attending such an occasion, one should show due decorum and respect.

Dressing formally and elegantly shows the importance placed on the event, respect for one's own efforts, and an attitude towards all those present who endured suffering and ultimately sought justice!

Mrs. Holmes may seem easily seduced by her husband, but when she gets serious, she has her own set of logic.

Mycroft took in his mother's reaction, and faced with this stubborn maternal love, he wisely shrugged and chose not to confront her directly.

“I’ve ironed your best clothes, Harry. Wear them tomorrow morning.”

At 12 Grimmauld Place, Mrs. Weasley was also reminding Harry, "And I hope you'll wash your hair again tonight."

“Come on, Mom, Harry and Sherlock are just going to sit in on the class, is it really necessary to make such a fuss?” Fred Weasley said.

"Why isn't it necessary?"

Mrs. Weasley glared at Fred. "That traitor will be brought to justice tomorrow. There will be countless people watching Harry in that situation. How can we be so casual about it?"
And Sirius, you're going to testify about this tomorrow too, so you'd better get yourself ready!

Sirius was taken aback, not expecting Mrs. Weasley to mention him: "Me...me too?"

"Of course, a good first impression is very important!"

"But this trial is just a formality. I would much rather see Peter executed afterward."

At this point, Sirius couldn't help but lick his lips, a fierce glint in his eyes.

"..."

Sirius's cold remark and the gesture of licking his lips brought a knowing worry to Mrs. Weasley's eyes.

She knew all too well the ruthless, reckless spirit that ran deep within the Black family bloodline.

Sirius Black, Regulus, Bellatrix, Andromeda, Narcissa...

Everyone's like that!

Thinking of this, she sighed, her tone softening slightly, "I understand, Sirius, no one deserves to be punished more than him."

At the same time, Mr. Weasley decisively offered his wife a helping hand.

He walked over to Sirius and patted his tense arm:
"Molly is right, but that's precisely why you need to act like one."

Think of James and Lily. Tomorrow, everyone will see who the real hero is and who the real traitor is.

You must stand before everyone and testify openly for Lily and James, and for the twelve years that were stolen from you.

Your appearance was the final slap in Peter's face, louder than any gritted teeth.

The fierceness in Sirius's eyes subsided slightly, replaced by weariness and deep pain.

He scratched his already somewhat messy black hair, his voice lowering, with a hint of compromise: "Alright, Arthur, Molly, I'll do as you say."

He just felt that this clean robe was far less satisfying than transforming into a big black dog and tearing Peter apart.

Harry gave the Weasleys a grateful look.

Just then, George, who had been quietly observing, interjected:
"Hey Mom, since Harry and Sirius are going to make a grand appearance, can we take this opportunity to apply for two new suits and robes?"

Fred chimed in, "That way we'll definitely be able to use it at Percy's graduation ceremony or the next time we visit the Ministry of Magic with Dad!"

They were clearly trying to confuse the situation, but this action caused a brief burst of laughter in the living room.

Ron covered his face, and Ginny couldn't help but giggle.

Even Sirius, with his gloomy expression, managed a rare upward twitch at the corner of his mouth.

"Stop causing trouble! Now all of you go back to your rooms!"
Harry, remember to wash your hair again!

Mrs. Weasley, hands on her hips, pointed at the twins, "If you bring up Percy again, you'll be in charge of scrubbing the goblins in the yard tomorrow!"

The two brothers exchanged a glance and decisively fell silent.

The laughter and chatter slightly dispelled the heavy, oppressive feeling in the room.

After dinner, everyone gradually dispersed and returned to their rooms.

The night seemed exceptionally long.

The fire crackled in the fireplace, casting restless shadows of the old family figures on the tapestry hanging on the wall.

Harry tiptoed past Mrs. Black's portrait and returned to his room on the third floor.

He lay in bed staring at the ceiling, his heart filled with mixed emotions.

Tomorrow, we will see Peter, the murderer who killed his parents, brought to justice.

He both hoped that justice, though belated, would be served, and felt a vague unease about Sirius's suffering.

He had just gone upstairs to take a look, and Sirius's room was quiet. He was probably sitting by the window, gazing at the London night sky.

Harry had originally planned to write a letter or make a phone call to Sherlock and tell him about his concerns.

But after thinking about it carefully, I decided to forget about it.

Hermione had called her not long ago, reminding her to make sure she recorded the interrogation process carefully.

Based on his understanding of Sherlock, he was probably indifferently inspecting the collar of his mother's neatly ironed, wrinkle-free dress shirt.

Looking at myself, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep at night.

Harry originally thought he definitely wouldn't be able to sleep that night.

However, he eventually fell asleep.

When Mrs. Weasley quietly entered the room in the middle of the night and placed the freshly washed and ironed jeans and T-shirt at the foot of Harry's bed, she was surprised to find him curled up in bed like a warm ball.

The night passed by unnoticed.

Dawn quietly crept across the horizon.

The stage for the public trial is about to begin.

(End of this chapter)